


Caged Heart, Flying Free

by ViolettaValery



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anonymous Sex, Butt Plugs, Claiming, Cock Cages, Cock Warming, Confident Alex Manes, Dom/sub, Dominant Alex Manes, Edging, Endearments, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Service Kink, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Submissive Michael Guerin, complete and utter filth, unrealistic stamina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaValery/pseuds/ViolettaValery
Summary: Ten years ago, when Michael found Isobel standing over Rosa Ortecho's dead body, they ran. They made a life for themselves elsewhere, and Michael as pretty sure he'd never see Alex again.This - naked in a hotel room, waiting for an anonymous stranger to fuck him - is definitely not how he expected to meet him again.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 29
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, this is just like...8K of shameless filth, basically. With a bit of an emotional arc of a plot, but honestly it's mostly just porn. Literally what it says on the tin. 
> 
> Thanks to @ninswhimsy for all her help developing this fic and encouraging it. 
> 
> Sorry (not sorry) for the totally romance novel title.

He knows this isn’t a good idea.

(“It’s not the _sleeping around_ that I have issues with, Michael, it’s how reckless you’re being,” Isobel’s disapproving voice pipes up in his head).

It’s also not necessarily a _bad_ idea, as far as his ideas go.

Still, he doesn’t tell her about it.

She knows what he gave up for her – a full ride to UNM, a real life, _Alex_ – to go on the run for ten years after he’d found her standing over Rosa Ortecho’s dead body, and if he copes by bringing strangers into his bed, well, she knows how much more destructive his alternate coping mechanisms can be. But sometimes a simple parade of faceless strangers isn’t enough. Sometimes, he needs more than just a tumble in the sheets, wants to be held down, used, fucked and left. And that she doesn’t need to know about.

So that’s how he ends up here, naked in a hotel room, ass in the air and his hole open and prepared, blindfolded, waiting for a man that Oliver – his fellow bartender and enabler of sorts – had assured him simply wanted a good fuck, no strings attached. It’s Oliver who arranged all the details and served as intermediary, so the man who’s about to fuck him into oblivion is well and truly a stranger.

The room is deathly silent, nothing but the quiet whirr of the air conditioning unit and the almost-imperceptible sound of traffic. Or maybe that’s the blindfold heightening his other senses, so that by the time he hears the sound of the key card in the lock, it seems loud as a gunshot to his ears.

The man doesn’t say anything, as they’d agreed; Michael merely hears the soft rustle of clothing and the clink of a belt, the soft pad of footsteps as the man approaches.

For a moment, there’s utter silence as the man likely surveys the goods, and Michael’s stomach clenches in anticipation. It’s this that he wanted, being assessed and found – _acceptable._

Then there’s a sharp intake of breath, and Michael preens a little. He must be more than _acceptable._

He shifts slightly, sticking his ass up in the air even further, and hears a contented hum from behind him.

He shivers a little when he feels a hand on his ass. It runs up his side, tentative, traces the small scar on his back; an index finger trails over the knobs of his spine.

“Like what you see?” he can’t help asking.

The guy hums in agreement. He’s obviously not particularly vocal, but Michael doesn’t need him to be. In fact, it’s better this way, just like it’s better that he’s blindfolded: it makes the pretending easier.

After that, the guy doesn’t waste much time on niceties. Michael’s already been half-hard from preparing himself earlier, and reached full hardness during the silent assessment. That’s all either of them needs.

He hears those familiar sounds of the preliminaries of sex: the click of the lube opening, the squirt of it, the slicking sound as the guy prepares himself. His body knows what comes next, and his cock twitches in anticipation. He shifts, widening his stance, an offering.

The guy chuckles softly at Michael’s eagerness and proceeds to tease him, the tip of his cock tantalizing at Michael’s entrance. Michael whines and pushes back, because he _needs_ that cock inside him, right _now,_ and that elicits another chuckle.

Then the guy enters him, swiftly and unceremoniously. Michael can’t help the sound he makes, half gasp and half whine.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he breathes. The guy is _huge,_ filling him completely, the stretch just on the edge of painful.

Like Alex, Michael’s mind supplies.

The guy fucks like Alex, too, his thrusts slow and careful even as he fills Michael completely with each one, but then they speed up. His hands dig into Michael’s hips, holding him still as he fucks into Michael, each of Michael’s moans seeming to urge him on.

Back then, Alex had been hesitant at first, too.

“ _I’ve never done this before,” he says shyly from beneath long lashes._

_“Neither have I,” Michael admits, trying to reassure him._

_“I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_“You won’t.” He parts his legs even farther, though Alex is already comfortably settled between them. “Fuck me.”_

_And Alex does. He’s big, and Michael’s body attempts to resist the intrusion at first. But Alex keeps going, slow and careful even as he thrusts in as deep as he can, and eventually, Michael gets used to the size of him, that feel of fullness, craves more of it. He wants Alex inside every part of him._

_“Yeah, yeah, come on, Alex,” he urges, and that’s when Alex stops fucking like an inexperienced teenager and fucks him like he’s done this before. Fast and rough, hands tangled in Michael’s curls while Michael’s own dig into his skin, their foreheads pressed together, breathing together, Alex catching Michael’s moans with kisses._

“Yes, yes, like that, like that – ngh – _Alex._ ”

The guy stills.

“How did you know?”

And that – it can’t be. That’s Alex’s voice. Even after a decade, Michael would recognize it anywhere.

“ _Alex?”_

Alex starts pulling out, presumably so they can talk, but Michael’s pleasantly full of cock and his own cock is leaking and he’s _so close._

“No, don’t stop. We can talk after.”

Alex pulls out anyway, and Michael makes a plaintive sound.

“You made me wait for _ten years,_ Guerin,” Alex says. He no longer sounds like the scared young man Michael remembers. “I think it’s your turn to wait.”

Michael allows himself another plaintive sound, but he doesn’t protest. Alex is right, he fucked up and ran away without looking back. It had seemed like the right choice at the time: there was Izzy to protect and their secret to hide, and he was already on Jesse Manes’ radar for “perverting” his youngest son.

He thought he’d never see Alex again. But now, as he pulls off the blindfold, he does.

Perhaps it’s the shock of the light, but Alex is blinding. Ten years later, and Michael knows in less than a second that this is the man his heart belongs to. He’s even more beautiful than he used to be, transformed from boy to man, his youthful curviness replaced by strong, broad shoulders, firm muscle, and an unyielding set to his face. Still the same intensity in his eyes.

And, as Michael takes in his naked form, a prosthetic where his right leg should be.

Alex’s gaze turns challenging as Michael’s eyes fall to it, and he drags them back up to Alex’s face.

“You ran,” Alex says with only the slightest edge of accusation.

So they’re doing this naked and with their dicks out, then. Cool.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me again after what happened,” Michael admits, while his dick reminds him that there’s something else it’d rather be doing. Alex, however, seems unperturbed by his own pressing hard-on.

His eyes fall to Michael’s hand. “You’re the one who got hurt.”

“You can’t possibly tell me your dad didn’t take his anger out on you too, after,” Michael says. “I was just another bad memory, and Isobel needed me. I figured, without me, you could have something – better. For what it’s worth, I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“I enlisted,” Alex says, and Michael stares. Though now that he says it, it makes sense – Alex is clearly fit, his muscles for more than just vanity. He has scars, here and there, and along with that intensity in his eyes is something darker and more haunted.

And, of course, he’s missing a leg.

“Why?” he asks.

It can’t possibly have been because of him. It _can’t._ He wasn’t _important enough_ to be the reason for it.

“I wanted to win battles,” Alex explains. “That night, in the toolshed, I lost against my dad, again, and I decided that was the last time. I wanted to be the kind of man who could protect himself and the people he loves. Even if I’d already lost you.”

“So this,” Michael gestures at the leg. “It’s my fault.”

“No,” Alex says vehemently. “Even if you hadn’t run, I’d have enlisted. _That_ is not your fault. But,” Alex says, his voice turning dangerous as he moves stalks towards the bed, predatory. “I _am_ furious at you, for running. You left me behind, Michael. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, and you have no idea what that felt like. So now” – Alex puts one of his knees on the bed and pushes Michael backwards until he sprawls – “I’m going to make you _pay._ ”

He does.

Alex picks up where he left off, except this time, he pins Michael’s wrists - easily, the practiced movements of a trained soldier, not that Michael would resist anyway - and fucks into him, slow and tortuous.

And keeps fucking into him, each thrust angled perfectly to make Michael see stars and make his cock twitch. And that makes Michael’s hand twitch, seeking to give his cock some relief, and each time he remembers that Alex’s hands are pinning his.

Alex comes inside Michael, then keeps going. And keeps going. Who _is_ this man, Michael thinks, whose stamina doesn’t seem to be in the realm of mere mortals? Was freaky sex stamina something they trained for in basic these days?

His own cock is still untouched, and he _needs,_ but Alex’s hands are still on his wrists, and he’s full of Alex’s dick, and oh god, he _needs._

Michael sobs. “Alex, _please._ ”

“You know,” Alex says pensively, as he fucking _keeps going,_ barely breathless. “I cried after you left. I cried just like this, and I begged for you to come back.” He runs a soothing hand down Michael’s side, which does nothing to calm the fire of need within him. “But you didn’t.”

Alex thrusts inside him particularly hard, hitting his prostate just right, and Michael whimpers.

“I think it’s your turn to beg now,” Alex says.

And Michael, who can’t very well resist Alex even at the best of times, has no compunctions about doing just that.

“Alex, Alex please, I’ll do anything, anything for you, just let me come, _please._ ”

Instead, Alex picks that particular moment to come inside him and then pull out. Michael whines at the loss, but Alex keeps him pinned as he tries to chase after it.

After that, he tortures Michael for what feels like an eternity, though it may well have been two minutes; Michael’s need-addled brain has no concept of time. Alex’s hand brings him to the edge and denies him, again and again, while he sucks in labored breaths and murmurs Alex’s name like a litany. Eventually, he can’t even beg anymore, just lies there and sobs and takes it. Until, finally, finally, just as Alex has brought him to the edge yet again and he’s bracing himself for another denial, Alex coaxes him into his climax.

It’s the sweetest release he’s ever known, and this time, he sobs in relief.

“That’s what those ten years felt like, Guerin.”

He just lies there and sobs. He’s surprised his tears haven’t run dry yet, but they pour forth like a waterfall. He’s not even sure what he’s crying over, the relief of his release, the happiness of finding Alex again, the knowledge that he won’t stay. He feels weak in every way, body and soul, his brains fucked out and his soul carved out.

“There, there,” Alex soothes. “You did so very well, Guerin.”

Michael blinks up at him. “Huh?”

Alex’s brushes back his sweaty curls and cards his hand through them. “My treasure,” he murmurs. “I’ve found you again.”

“I don’t understand.” Hasn’t Alex made Michael _pay,_ like he said he would? “Why are you still here?”

"You're mine now, Guerin. You left me once. I won’t let you go again.”

Michael blinks up at him and makes his decision in a split second.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

Later, explaining everything to Izzy, he’ll blame his post-coital brain for revealing their secret, but he knows that’s not the reason why.

The cock cage goes on the next day.

Michael stands still and watches as Alex locks it himself and puts the key around his neck. “I know you can get out of this with your powers,” he says. “But if you do, Guerin, if you disobey me, I will ensure there will be hell to pay that makes yesterday seem like a walk in the park. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he acknowledges. The possibility had very briefly crossed his mind, but he has absolutely no intention of breaking Alex’s rules.

Over the next week, Alex lets him out only to shower (Alex joins him to ensure that there’s no “funny business” of any sort other than Michael getting on his knees and sucking Alex’s cock with the spray beating down on the two of them).

In fact, while Michael isn’t allowed to so much as get hard, Alex gets as many orgasms as he wants, courtesy of Michael’s pliant body.

“You are _mine,_ Guerin,” he reiterates. “All of you. Your body, your heart, your dick. Your orgasms. Your _powers._ And I will make sure you know it.”

“Everything,” he agrees. “For as long as you want.”

As horny teenagers, they’d both been able to keep going for a good while. That fact doesn’t seem to have changed about Alex, who still has the stamina of a horny teenager but the control and patience of a saint. Michael loses track of how many times Alex comes down his throat or in his ass while his own cock throbs in its confines.

It’s a delicious torture to feel the pleasure of being fucked but be unable to feel its release. But mostly, he gets to know that he’s Alex’s, which is all he’s ever wanted.

It takes Isobel three days to notice the spring in his step and confront him about it.

“And why are you so happy?” she asks suspiciously over morning coffee, after watching his usually grumpy self not complain about being up in the morning for three days in a row.

“I met Alex Manes again. And we kinda – well.”

Isobel drops her mug, which doesn’t shatter only because Michael’s powers catch it.

“You _what?_ Does he suspect anything? Michael, you have to end it – “

“I told him everything.”

At that, Isobel lets out a truly inhuman screech. “You _told_ him? Ten years of hiding our secret, and you just – told him?” She slides off the kitchen stool. “I have to go fix this. I have to make him forget, make him leave again.”

“No.”

Isobel freezes. “Michael – “

Under his jeans, he can feel the cage Alex put on him, a reminder that he belongs to Alex. A reminder of what he can never lose again.

“No,” he repeats. “You won’t. First, because you can’t make him do something he doesn’t want to do, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to forget. And second, because if you do manage it, I’ll find him again, and I’ll tell him.” He pauses. Takes a deep breath. “I gave him up for you once, Izzy. I’m not doing it again. I love you more than anything, but I also love him, and if you make him leave, I swear, you will lose me.”

She stares at him, flabbergasted. Sinks down again, like all the air’s been let out of her sails.

“You – love him?” she asks in a small voice. “After all this time? Ten years?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh _Michael,_ ” she says, and he doesn’t quite like her tone.

“Promise me you won’t do anything, Iz. You have to promise me.”

“Can we trust him?”

“Yes.”

She sighs again, considering. “Not that I trust your evaluation of the situation, but. Fine. For now. But be careful. Please.”

“Always am, Iz,” he reassures her.

What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

By the end of the week, his voice is hoarse, his ass is sore, and he feels like a sex toy. Still, when Alex takes the cage off at the end of the week, he’s both relieved and bereft. He’s gotten pleasantly used to having a perpetual reminder that he gets to be unequivocally, undoubtedly Alex’s.

“Don’t mistake this, Guerin,” Alex says as he unlocks it. “You’re still mine, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Michael has no intention to. He’s run away from Alex once and regretted it since. 

“Don’t touch yourself,” Alex instructs. “No hands, no toys, _no powers,_ ” he stipulates.

By day two, he decides that this version is worse. His dick is still not his own, and yet he doesn’t get to feel the solid, reassuring weight of Alex’s ownership on it.

And then there’s the plug. Alex had inserted it after taking off the cage and before Michael left for work. He’d gaped at the size of it, almost as large as Alex himself. It’s also impossible to ignore, because while it might be a pale imitation of the real thing, every second is still a pressing (ha) reminder of what it’s like to be filled by Alex. And once Michael starts thinking of what it feels like to have Alex inside him, he can think about nothing else.

As he bends over the hood of a beat-up Chevy whose engine needs some TLC (not the only thing around here that could use some, Michael thinks), the plug presses even more insistently inside him. Thankfully, there’s no one around (he’s the only mechanic his boss employs, because his magic hands – ha again - are more than enough) to hear the way it makes him moan, out loud, fully and unabashedly. He’s been half-hard all day, and at that moment he throws caution to the winds. If he bends over _just so_ – and it still looks like he’s working on the engine if anyone walks by, he thinks – the plug presses right where he wants it, and if he rubs himself against the car as he does it, it’s _almost_ enough.

It _almost_ works, feeling at least _something_ more than just constant want, until a few seconds pass and the realization of exactly what he’s doing crashes into him.

What the _fuck,_ Guerin, he thinks, stilling. What the _fuck_ are you doing?

That night, he enters Alex’s apartment with the key he’s been given, strips eagerly and gets on the bed as instructed.

Alex isn’t here yet.

Fifteen minutes pass, and he can feel the plug inside him as each minute ticks by, his body clenching around it in anticipation of Alex replacing it.

Thirty minutes.

By the time forty-five minutes pass, he needs Alex inside him so badly he wants to cry. His cock, alternating between hard and half-hard all day, is at full mast and leaking. It doesn’t matter how many differential equations he tries to solve in his head – nothing helps.

He starts humping the bed.

Alex had said no toys or hands or powers, but he’d said nothing about Michael rubbing himself against surfaces. Not that it does much good. In fact, it might even be worse, the merest suggestion of what he could have, but he’s so desperate he can’t stop, hoping that each thrust of the hips will bring relief the previous one didn’t.

He’s so intent on what he’s doing that he barely hears Alex walk in, but eventually, Alex’s presence by the side of the bed is impossible to ignore.

Michael freezes.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Alex says, and settles in to watch on the armchair by the bed.

Helplessly, he continuous, arching his back this time, and when he does it just right as he humps the bed the plug presses in _just so,_ and it’s almost, _almost_ enough, except it’s not, and the fifth time it’s _not enough_ he gives up, falling onto the bed and sobbing with need.

“Oh _Michael,_ ” Alex says. He comes over to sit on the bed, pulling Michael’s head into his lap and stroking his hair. “You can do this, I know you can, and I’ll be right here with you. It’s going to be all right, I promise.”

“’Course it will,” he agrees, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. Alex said so.

Eventually, with Alex’s murmured words, Michael settles down, focusing on the hand running through his curls. The desire doesn’t thrum quite so insistently in his blood anymore, and he lets himself curl up and his eyes flutter closed. He’s safe and warm and wanted and he just wants to lie here forever and be Alex’s.

Eventually – and it could be hours later, he has no idea – Alex tugs at his hair gently, guiding him to his knees.

Michael knows exactly what to do.

He loves sucking cock, loves the feel of it hot and heavy on his tongue, the scent of sex, and he loves Alex’s cock even more, the way it fills him, so big that Michael can take it all the way down and there’s still plenty left. He loves the way it’s almost too much, in a life where nothing is ever _enough._ He loves the way it’s instantly ready for him, hard and leaking precome, loves the salty taste that tells him he’s where he belongs.

The second Alex’s cock springs free after Michael clumsily unbuckles his belt, Michael swallows it down desperately until the tip hits the back of his throat and his eyes water.

“Hey,” Alex says gently. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Michael sighs happily. Alex is right. He can have this, as much as he wants. He fits here, the way Alex fits inside him right now, perfect puzzle pieces.

Alex stays still, letting Michael’s mouth do all the work. He’s learning by now how Alex likes it - efficient, thorough, straightforward, so unlike the slow teasing Alex inflicts on him. Sometimes a little bit of teeth, when Michael is feeling cheeky and Alex is feeling fond. He likes being taken all the way down, likes the way Michael’s voice is hoarse after, and loves when Michael’s eyes water from it and he can brush those tears away tenderly with his thumbs.

And Michael, well, he likes the way Alex starts out with pet names like “treasure” and “darling,” praise for how talented his mouth is, how _good_ he is, so perfect for him. He likes the way that eventually, Alex loses a little bit of control, and his words turn into mere sounds, little gasps and moans that sink into Michael’s skin. He likes how _he_ can do that to Alex. And he likes Alex’s climaxes, the silent, bitten-off groans, the tightening of Alex’s hand on him, the salty-sweet taste on his tongue.

When he’s finished, he moves to pull away, but Alex presses a firm hand to the back of his neck, and he rests his head on the inside of Alex’s thigh, soft cock filling his mouth. Looking up contentedly, he sees Alex smiling down at him fondly, his hand an anchoring touch on the side of Michael’s face. 

After a few minutes, Michael feels Alex’s cock filling again (he’s stopped questioning Alex’s superhuman stamina at this point), and he doesn’t need any prompting to get on with a repeat performance.

He gets Alex off three times, and by then, he’s floating on a cloud of calm. His cock is still hard and leaking, but it’s become a comforting reminder of a pleasant truth.

When Alex coaxes him onto the bed and finally fucks him, Michael sobs with relief and holds as still as he can for Alex.

That night, Michael tosses and turns, his cock throbbing with need, his skin tingling where Alex left bruises, knowing that the plug that presses into him is keeping Alex’s come inside him. He whimpers, and Alex pulls him close, peppering kisses on his hair and forehead.

“It’s all right,” Alex coaxes, fingers tracing patterns over Michael’s back as Michael buries his face in Alex’s chest. “You’re so, _so_ good for me, and everything will be all right, I promise.”

Eventually, he drifts off under Alex’s soothing words and gentle touches, feeling kept and owned.

He wakes up, predictably, with morning wood. 

It’s a relief that Alex is there, because it means he doesn’t have to decide whether to get himself off in the shower, or do it in bed and then deal with the cleanup, or ignore it and be on edge all day. Al of that is Alex’s problem.

Alex, he notices, has morning wood too. He runs his gaze up and down Michael’s body, considering, and Michael lies still beneath the assessment.

Finally, Alex reaches a decision and gently tugs Michael’s head down by the curls.

“You know what to do,” he says, though really he doesn’t have to.

After, they shower. Michael stands, naked, and waits as Alex removes his prosthetic, offering his arm for support.

“Hold me up,” Alex tells him after they’ve stepped into the shower, and Michael cocoons Alex in his powers, supporting his wait where his prosthetic limb normally would.

Michael watches as Alex shampoos his hair and suddenly, a laugh bubbles out of him.

“What?” Alex asks.

“I just realized that you basically used your dick as a pacifier last night,” Michael says.

Alex regards him with snide amusement. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Michael snorts. “You know dick is always a good way to shut me up.”

Alex laughs at that too. His hair is wet from the spray, trails of soap over his torso, and it makes him look soft and touchable, nothing left of the ice-cold façade he presents to the world. Here, he’s unguarded, wrapped in a bubble of Michael’s powers because Alex trusts him not to let him fall, and the urge to protect him forever explodes like a firework in his chest, deep and burning.

And Michael gets to be his.

“I love you,” he blurts out. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” Alex says, but Michael can tell by the flutter of his eyelashes and the small breath he lets escape that he’s not unaffected. “And there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you.”

And Michael just wants to sink to his knees then and there.

But, for once, a shower blowjob isn’t what Alex has in mind. Instead, he guides Michael to turn to face the wall, hands flat against the tile as Alex cleans him after the exertions of last night and this morning. He uses the softest of touches, but denial makes every one feel like a shock. Michael presses his forehead to the cool tile and closes his eyes, drawing strength from Alex’s supportive hand on his flank as he sucks in too-short breaths and concentrates all his power on not letting Alex fall.

He will never let Alex fall.

He gasps as Alex presses closer, kissing the spot between Michael’s shoulder blades before tracing the scar there with an index finger.

“This is how I knew for sure it was you,” he says, voice secret-soft as his finger circles it. It’s an old burn, probably from the religious fanatics, but he doesn’t even really remember anymore. “I saw it and knew I’d found you again. I knew I’d been given a second chance, and I decided then and there that I’m not letting you go.”

Michael can’t quite muster words for that, but Alex doesn’t seem to expect any; he busies himself pressing tender kisses on Michael’s shoulders as the spray of water turns cold around them and their bodies seek each other’s warmth.

At the end of that week, Michael gets a package in the mail. It’s one of those packages that go so out of the way to be discreet that they might as well be transparent, and he’s grateful Izzy isn’t home to see it.

He frowns. He _knows_ he hasn’t ordered anything of the sort. He wouldn’t without asking Alex.

Opening it, he finds another cage.

He sends Alex a text: _????_

Alex replies almost immediately: _would you like to put it on yourself, or shall I do it?_

He considers, for a moment, putting the cage on for Alex, showing up wearing it, seeing Alex’s pleased expression because Michael’s locked himself up for him. It’s tempting, but the thought of Alex locking him up himself as Michael watches, helpless to resist, is even more tempting.

He texts back one word: _you._

It occurs to Michael as Alex puts the cage on him that he hasn’t had an orgasm in two weeks. He wonders how long Alex will deny him one, whether he’ll get one in the next month or even the next _year,_ and realizes that it doesn’t actually matter.

Since he’s met Alex again, he hasn’t been frequenting shady dive bars, because his body doesn’t crave bloody knuckles and broken glass anymore, and what does he need with strangers when he belongs to Alex?

He’s also started working on physics and engineering again, because he can actually concentrate now. At Isobel’s insistence, he’d gotten a community college degree at some point in the past ten years, but didn’t manage to go any further than that, because what does a mechanic-slash-bartender need with a graduate degree, anyway? It had seemed too insurmountable a task with no point. But now, the insistent, unignorable arousal replaces the cacophony in his mind. Now, instead of fighting the perpetual chaos of his thoughts, he only has one thing to focus his attention on ignoring. He can actually _think,_ with clarity, and the GRE is a walk in the park. His essays write themselves, and the scientific papers he reads resolve into beautiful, comprehensible data.

He finally feels like he can _breathe._

“Are you ever going to let me come?” Michael asks a week later as he lies in Alex’s arms late at night, sated. Or, well, Alex is sated, while he has the satisfaction of having made Alex come, twice, making the most beautiful sounds and even gripping the headboard for purchase as he cried out. It fills Michael with a warm, bubbly contentment, or maybe that’s just the feeling of Alex holding him close.

“I _have_ let you come,” Alex says, and Michael remembers the painful orgasms in the new cage Alex has gotten him.

Unlike the first contraption Alex had put him in, which had encased the entirety of his dick, this cage looks like just that: a cage. It leaves Michael’s cock visible, so he can see it straining desperately to get hard against the metal bars when Alex touches him or presses a vibrator against it.

That was how Alex gave him his first orgasm in two and a half weeks, and it should have been a relief, but instead, it was excruciating. Alex had murmured praise and endearments while holding the vibrator to his needy, sensitive cock, and he’d whimpered his way through it. And Alex had told him he was beautiful as he sobbed and held his shaking body, after.

“For real, I mean,” he clarifies.

Alex, thankfully, elects not to argue semantics, but he does roll over until he’s atop Michael, pinning him easily. Michael strains instinctively against the hands on his wrists, liking the reminder of Alex’s implacable strength. A knowing smile tugs at the corner of Alex’s mouth, and he shifts his weight, redoubling the pressure holding Michael down.

“I’ll let you come once I get it through your thick skull that you’re _mine,_ Guerin, and I am never letting you go.”

Michael blinks up at him, stunned.

“You’re keeping me? Forever?”

“Yes, of course.” 

Michael can’t help it. He starts sobbing.

Alex’s face creases into a frown. “Darling, what is it?” he asks, though his grip on Michael’s wrists doesn’t loosen, and Michael focuses on that reassuring weight. “What’s wrong? Tell me and whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”

“You’re keeping me forever,” he explains.

“Yes,” Alex says carefully. Hesitantly, like he’s unsure that this is what Michael wants. “You’re mine, and I will always take care of you.”

“No one’s ever wanted to keep me before,” Michael admits.

“Well, I do. _Forever,_ Michael. And I will _make_ you believe it, I promise you.”

Michael just sobs harder while Alex continues to hold him down and whisper endearments.

A few weeks later, Michael moves in with Alex. It means that he gets to see Alex at his less guarded, with his defenses lowered. He gets to take care of Alex, the way Alex has been taking care of him, and that, too, makes him feel like he finally fits somewhere.

One night, Alex comes home from work with his teeth gritted and so much tension radiating off hi that Michael’s jumping up off the couch before Alex has even closed the door.

“What can I do?” he asks immediately.

“My leg, off,” is all Alex says, which is a testament to what a bad day he’s having.

Michael wastes no time in reaching out with his powers, wrapping Alex in a secure cocoon of them and taking the weight off Alex’s stump. He’s rewarded with Alex’s sigh of relief.

Next, he gets to kneel to untie Alex’s boots, and unbuckle his belt. His cock twitches in interest, but he merely drags Alex’s pants off to get to his prosthetic, then summons his crutches.

Alex hates being carried, so Michael follows him patiently as Alex tiredly makes his way to the bedroom and collapses on the bed, leaving it to Michael to undress him the rest of the way.

Michael crawls on the bed and on top of Alex, his caged cock bouncing between his legs. He knows it won’t get any attention today, but it’s the last thing on his mind. Instead, he focuses his attention on massaging Alex’s leg, then his hip. His left hand is half-useless at this, but his powers make up for where his hand can’t exert enough pressure, kneading sore muscles.

Then, flipping Alex gently over, Michael works on his back, relishing Alex’s contented sighs, and follows the massage with trails of kisses. He loves getting to do this, Alex warm and content beneath him, and he hates that Alex has to be in so much pain for it.

Finally, with Alex at his most pliant, Michael flips him over yet again and indulges himself by leaving kisses at the crease of leg and thigh and teasing the delicate skin of Alex’s inner thigh with his scruff. He’s rewarded with a soft, breathy laugh, and that sound – he’d give anything to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

“Can I?” he asks, as Alex’s cock begins to show interest in Michael’s attention. “That sort of thing is supposed to help with pain, you know,” he adds.

Alex chuckles.

“I’m hardly in a position to refuse,” he says, but he sounds – content. 

Michael buries his head between Alex’s legs and pulls out every trick he knows. Eventually, he’s rewarded with that slight tightening of Alex’s muscles that means he’s close, and the deep and contented sigh as he goes loose and pliant again.

“Better?” he asks as he crawls up to steal a kiss.

“Yes,” Alex admits, but Michael knows it will still be a late night for him.

He cleans them both up, then pulls Alex close and whispers endearments as Alex grits his teeth and searches for sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“I want to talk to you about Michael,” Isobel says without preamble the second he opens the door.

Alex considers the six feet of her (in heels) taking up his doorway, impeccably dressed, perfectly coiffed, a confection of a woman.

“What about Michael?” he asks coolly.

“You have his dick locked up in a cage,” she accuses. “How dare you do that to my brother? You know he can’t say no to you, and you do _this_?”

He gestures her in, closing the door behind her and following. Without invitation, she chooses the most comfortable of the armchairs, perching on it like a queen.

He sits down across from her.

“Do you know how I met him again, Isobel?” Alex asks conversationally and relishes the look of confusion on her face as she searches for an answer. “He was naked, ass in the air, in a hotel room, waiting to be fucked by a stranger and left.”

Isobel makes a scandalized sound and Alex fixes her with a skeptical glare. “You came here to talk about your brother’s dick being in a cage. Don’t start getting prudish on me now.”

Isobel meets Alex’s glare with one of her own. “I could _melt your brain._ ”

“Your brother’s been lost for ten years, Isobel,” he says coolly. Matter-of-factly. “He’s been using sex to be self-destructive for a decade now. You _did_ notice that, didn’t you? Being his protective sister and all? But now he belongs to me and he _knows_ it, so he’s not going to hit on some guy’s girlfriend in the hopes of getting in a fight, or get so drunk he gets fucked and left by half a dive bar of strangers and barely remembers it the next morning. No, don’t interrupt. Since you’re here to talk about it, you should know that now that his dick’s wrapped up in a pretty little cage and his orgasms belong to me, he’s not going to go around searching desperately for someone to use him so he can quiet the chaos for a few hours. He doesn’t _need_ to anymore. He’s working on _grad school applications_ because he can actually focus on them now instead of vibrating out of his own skin with the need to be used and hurt. I own him for his own good. Would you still like to melt my brain?”

“I didn’t realize it was that bad.” She blinks, the tears brimming in her eyes having no effect on her obviously waterproof mascara. “I know he gave up _so_ much for me, and he was coping with it, and I – “ She sobs, then catches herself and tries to push it back in. “I’ve been an awful sister, haven’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I’m not going to sit her and make up lies to make you feel better. You’re his sister, and you should have taken care of him. You didn’t, but he’s mine now, and I assure you that I will.”


	3. Chapter 3

When they fled, Isobel had changed her name, and now Isabelle Whitman is one of the most sought-after party planners in town, with a carefully-curated social media presence. She only rarely asks Michael to attend her parties, when the need to fill a venue with warm bodies outweighs the risk of Michael acting out.

Tonight is one of those nights, some gala that Isobel’s been chattering on for _months._ He doesn’t really get why it’s so important, but it’s important to Isobel, so it’s important to him.

He still hates wearing suits, though there _is_ the very distinct bonus that he gets to see Alex in one. And _fuck,_ but Alex is effortlessly stunning in his periwinkle suit, complete with flower in his lapel.

He catches Alex’s wrist as they get ready to head out and takes a deep gulp of air.

“Can you, um. Lock me up?” he asks, only fluttering his eyelashes _slightly._

Alex hasn’t put a cage on him in a while, but they still have an entire array of them, all meticulously clean in a drawer with their vast collection of other toys.

Alex, Michael has discovered, can be _infinitely_ creative with the proper tools.

“Why?” Alex asks. He cradles Michael’s face in his hands and focuses a piercing stare on him. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“Nothing’s wrong, just. I hate these things,” he admits. “And Izzy always wants me to _behave_ and she gets so upset when I don’t. And you’ll be there, looking all gorgeous and amazing and probably being hit on by everyone, people wanting to get in your bed left and right. And I guess I just want to have the reminder that _I’m_ the one who gets to belong to you?”

“Oh _darling,_ ” Alex says, his voice impossibly fond. “ _Of course._ ”

He picks out the cage Michael likes – the sleek metallic one that encases his cock perfectly, keeping it soft and out of sight. Michael folds his hands behind his back as Alex puts it on expertly and hangs the key around his neck, tucked beneath the white button-up that contrasts so beautifully with his tan skin.

Alex looks gorgeous, and Michael’s cock is already pulsing with _want._ He doesn’t know how he’s going to last hours when all he wants is for Alex to rip those clothes off and ravish him, or get on his knees and make Alex blush a little in that impeccable outfit.

In the elevator up to the penthouse Isobel has rented for the party, Alex pulls him close by his tie and kisses him. It presses their bodies together, and his cock throbs again at the proximity. Alex deepens the kiss, and before he knows it, Michael is rubbing himself against Alex, attempting the impossible task of getting some friction on his cock.

Alex pulls away, but keeps a hold on Michael’s tie, keeping him at arm’s length. “ _Michael,_ ” Alex warns, and all Michael wants to do is get on his knees in that elevator.

He wonders if the ride down might be long enough for him to get Alex off.

“Michael!” Isobel greets him with that smile on her face that he’s learned means, _I’m happy to see you, but keep me happy by not doing anything dumb._ Then her gaze falls to the man beside him. “Alex,” she says, more coolly.

“Hey Izzy,” Michael greets, pecking her on the cheek.

“You’ll behave, yes?”

“He will,” Alex confirms. “I’ll ensure it.”

Isobel considers him for a second, but apparently decides not to argue. Which, Michael thinks, is a wise choice.

As predicted, Alex gets hit on by half the men and women in the place, though he politely turns them all down. Michael feels a small twinge of jealousy when the particularly attractive ones try to make a move, but the metal around his cock reassures him that he’s Alex’s before Alex can even open his mouth to do it himself.

He gets his fair share of compliments and advances too. Tonight, though, there’s no itch under his skin telling him to down an inadvisable number of drinks at the open bar and take a few ladies (or gents) up on their offers in whatever bathroom or service closet is available. And he’s _definitely_ not planning to piss off a few jealous boyfriends by hitting on (or more) their girlfriends. He has skin-warmed metal pressed against his body and he needs nothing else.

Izzy clearly notices. She finds them just as they’ve left the dance floor (where he couldn’t help rubbing himself against Alex, and thank god it was dark there) and he’s sipping his second glass of champagne. The bubbly liquid is a pleasant warmth in his stomach, assuaging the small butterflies fluttering around in his stomach in anticipation of how tonight will end, once they’ve gone home.

“Michael,” she says, taking in his surprisingly not-disheveled appearance, the lack of lipstick stains on his face, the way he’s not swaying or holding himself up on a piece of furniture.

“Great party, Iz,” he says. “You’re right, they really are more fun without broken glass.”

Isobel shoots a glance at Alex, who, Michael discovers, is considering her with a cool expression of _I told you so._

“Thank you,” she tells Alex with clear reluctance.

“My pleasure,” he responds, and Michael is pretty sure he’s not the only one who catches the insinuation in the word.

“What was that?” he asks as they ride down in the elevator an hour or so later. It’s taking him a gargantuan effort not to rub himself against Alex or get on his knees.

“Ah, yes.” Alex smiles, amused. “It seems you left the box from one of the cages lying around and your dear sister came to me with some _opinions_ about the control I exert over your life.”

“Hmm,” Michael says. “I bet you told her off real nice.”

“Oh, I _did._ And then I proved her wrong, which is even more satisfying.” He gives Michael a brief kiss. “You were perfect tonight, darling. Just a little longer, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, as his cock reminds him how fucking _hot_ Alex is when he’s in charge.

They get into the car – Alex is driving – and Alex must be able to read what he wants on his face.

“Not here,” he says, smiling indulgently at Michael’s plaintive sound.

“You’ve been so good, Michael,” Alex says. “Just a little longer, and I’ll take my time with you,” and all Michael can do is nod and settle in to the passenger seat, spreading his legs.

Alex drives one handed, his other hand on the inside of Michael’s thigh. Michael makes a thoroughly undignified noise.

“ _Alex,_ ” Michael he whines.

“We’re almost there, darling,” Alex says as his hand teases its way up Michael’s thigh.

The second Alex parks the car, Michael starts out of his seat.

“Wait until we get inside,” Alex says.

“Alex, _please,_ ” Michael is unashamed to beg. “You said I’ve been good, _please_ let me.”

“Oh, all right,” Alex says, smiling fondly. He moves his seat back, spreading his legs.

Lightning fast, Michael climbs over the gear shift and gets on his knees between Alex’s legs. Alex relaxes, leaning back, and lets Michael do all the work. Frantically, Michael scrambles to undo Alex’s belt, pulling out his cock and sucking on it desperately. The second it’s in his mouth, he moans like a man who’s just drunk water after three days of thirst.

Alex’s amused chuckle soon turns to other sounds as Michael takes his time. He knows how to make Alex feel good and he does, and Alex rewards him by not holding back any of his sounds of pleasure. Each one of them goes straight to Michael’s dick, which throbs against its metal cage.

With a final contented sigh, Alex’s climax pulses down his throat, and he swallows it all like it’s spring water and he’s dying of thirst.

And then –

“Alex,” he says desperately as his own cock pulses. Even confined, it found its own climax. “Alex, I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose – “

Alex blinks, taking in the sight below him. Then he breaks into a smile.

“Michael, darling, if I didn’t want you to be able to come I’d have ensured you couldn’t,” he says. Michael knows the toys he means, the cock rings that keep him from climax, which Alex had put on him when he wanted to be fucked long and thoroughly by Michael. “Now come on, we’re not done for tonight.”

In the bedroom, Michael stands with his hands behind his back before Alex, who sits on the bed. He releases Michael’s cock, which springs to hardness immediately.

“Fetch my crutches, will you?” Alex requests. “And the vibrator and some rope.”

Michael obeys as Alex undresses and removes his leg.

He doesn’t need to be told to lie on the bed and put his hands above his head. Alex ties his wrists to the headboard – a superfluity, since Michael would keep them there if only Alex asked, but Alex had so wisely pointed out that it’s not about whether Michael would obey. It’s about rewarding him by making obedience easy.

Then, Alex straddles him and turns on the vibrator.

“You’ve been good for me tonight, darling, and I’m going to make you feel just as good,” Alex murmurs. Michael shifts slightly, testing his restraints, letting his eyes flutter shut in anticipation. Surrendering.

Alex edges him, an expert musician playing on Michael with fingers and vibrator, until the orgasm he gives him is the sweetest thing Michael’s ever tasted. Then, while he’s sated and pliant, his cock soft and his body sensitive, Alex fucks into him and comes inside him.

He curls up in Alex’s arms that night and sleeps the sleep of the peaceful dead, the happiest he’s ever been.

After that, Alex puts him in the cage any time he’s so stressed that the insistent pulse of need and desire is the only thing that’s capable of keeping him from vibrating out of his skin: his first day of graduate school, his dissertation defense, his graduation, his first job interview, his first peer-reviewed publication, the day he’s awarded tenure. His first book.

He’s wearing it when he receives the Nobel Prize in Physics. “Congratulations, Dr. Guerin,” they tell him as they hand him the award, and Michael can’t see Alex’s face in the crowd, but he can feel the cool metal of the cage, and he knows who he belongs to.


End file.
